Peering from underneath a thick quilt, a sliver of moonlight cascading through my window and illuminating my childhood room in a silvery glow, I used to wait anxiously for my mother’s nightly bedtime stories. All extemporized from her imagination, tales of princesses and unicorns, of castles and magic spells used to enthrall my stereotypical girlish delight. Drowsiness usually pressed on my heavy eyelids and submerged me into a deep sleep before she finished the stories, allowing me to complete them on my own in my dreams. Little did I know at the time that these fanciful tales would eventually pave the way for my future career path.
My appetite for more stories was never satiated, inspiring my mom to take me to the library when I was about six years old to obtain my very own library card. The librarian bestowed upon me the shiny green plastic card which I arduously tried to inscribe my name onto the back of in my illegible first grade scrawl. Each week my mom would walk me down to our public library to find new children’s books to check out. The bright pictures and flawlessly cheery plots fortified my hunger. This motivated me to compose a few stories of my own; my mother helping me design and transcribe my own construction paper-bound books, those of which we still have, filed somewhere among the cardboard-boxed nostalgia in our attic.
At first the books would be read aloud to me, my mom dubbing in numerous character voices and exaggerating certain words for effect, until I was able to independently decipher the text on my own. Each year I grew stronger as a reader, pouring over the words delicately and deliberately arranged to form engaging narratives. I attribute my unwavering passion for literature to my mother for initially captivating me with her bedtime stories and commitment to encouraging my interest in books.
Constantly reading since I was young expanded my vocabulary and accelerated my intellectual caliber. Since I can remember I have been a throughly dedicated student in all areas of my academic studies. However, the English Language Arts has always been my most proficient subject and the one I could most easily identify with. Completing homework assignments for my ELA classes was rarely ever a chore, but rather something I enjoyed. Over-achiever to the core, my class projects have continued to be as elaborate and inventive as I could get away with throughout my scholastic career. In particular, my senior year AP Lit teacher was so delighted by a cake I decorated as Hamlet’s Denmark castle, complete with a marzipan ghost of King Hamlet and a jello moat featuring a drowned Ophelia, that she insisted on showing it off to other teachers and taking photographs before we ate it. The originality of my assignments was undoubtedly inspired by my home life in which art and creativity was and still is heavily embraced.
During my high school years, my artistic mother and easy-going father used to come downstairs at three in the morning to find me at the kitchen counter, still slaving away over these projects and other homework, not because I had procrastinated, but because my perfectionist tendencies are sometimes uncontrollable. They were mildly concerned at my sleep-deprivation, but understood how much I cared about my school work and usually stayed up with me until I was finished.
My parents have always been extremely encouraging but they never forced me to succeed academically, it was always something I wanted for myself. They provided all the necessary tools and instructed me and my sister to try our best, but I never felt any pressure or feared my parent’s reactions if I received a bad grade. As a result of their parenting, I grew into a more independent student. In high school, I decided to take five AP classes during my junior and senior years. I was especially interested in taking both AP Literature and AP Language and Composition. I achieved high exam scores and continued to graduate in the top 6% of my class.
If I had not been raised by my crazy, loving, supportive parents I feel as though I could not have done as well in school. I thank my mom for entertaining the whims of a child wishing to stall bedtime and hear endless stories, for perhaps I would not have discovered my infatuation for English and would be pursuing a different field. Family has been a critical factor and contribution to my accomplishments thus yet and will undoubtedly proceed to be so in my future.
My appetite for more stories was never satiated, inspiring my mom to take me to the library when I was about six years old to obtain my very own library card. The librarian bestowed upon me the shiny green plastic card which I arduously tried to inscribe my name onto the back of in my illegible first grade scrawl. Each week my mom would walk me down to our public library to find new children’s books to check out. The bright pictures and flawlessly cheery plots fortified my hunger. This motivated me to compose a few stories of my own; my mother helping me design and transcribe my own construction paper-bound books, those of which we still have, filed somewhere among the cardboard-boxed nostalgia in our attic.
At first the books would be read aloud to me, my mom dubbing in numerous character voices and exaggerating certain words for effect, until I was able to independently decipher the text on my own. Each year I grew stronger as a reader, pouring over the words delicately and deliberately arranged to form engaging narratives. I attribute my unwavering passion for literature to my mother for initially captivating me with her bedtime stories and commitment to encouraging my interest in books.
Constantly reading since I was young expanded my vocabulary and accelerated my intellectual caliber. Since I can remember I have been a throughly dedicated student in all areas of my academic studies. However, the English Language Arts has always been my most proficient subject and the one I could most easily identify with. Completing homework assignments for my ELA classes was rarely ever a chore, but rather something I enjoyed. Over-achiever to the core, my class projects have continued to be as elaborate and inventive as I could get away with throughout my scholastic career. In particular, my senior year AP Lit teacher was so delighted by a cake I decorated as Hamlet’s Denmark castle, complete with a marzipan ghost of King Hamlet and a jello moat featuring a drowned Ophelia, that she insisted on showing it off to other teachers and taking photographs before we ate it. The originality of my assignments was undoubtedly inspired by my home life in which art and creativity was and still is heavily embraced.
During my high school years, my artistic mother and easy-going father used to come downstairs at three in the morning to find me at the kitchen counter, still slaving away over these projects and other homework, not because I had procrastinated, but because my perfectionist tendencies are sometimes uncontrollable. They were mildly concerned at my sleep-deprivation, but understood how much I cared about my school work and usually stayed up with me until I was finished.
My parents have always been extremely encouraging but they never forced me to succeed academically, it was always something I wanted for myself. They provided all the necessary tools and instructed me and my sister to try our best, but I never felt any pressure or feared my parent’s reactions if I received a bad grade. As a result of their parenting, I grew into a more independent student. In high school, I decided to take five AP classes during my junior and senior years. I was especially interested in taking both AP Literature and AP Language and Composition. I achieved high exam scores and continued to graduate in the top 6% of my class.
If I had not been raised by my crazy, loving, supportive parents I feel as though I could not have done as well in school. I thank my mom for entertaining the whims of a child wishing to stall bedtime and hear endless stories, for perhaps I would not have discovered my infatuation for English and would be pursuing a different field. Family has been a critical factor and contribution to my accomplishments thus yet and will undoubtedly proceed to be so in my future.